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“You keep saying that, but how long has he coached you?”
“Just this year.”
“Exactly. Not long enough for you to know who he is.”
“I’ve known him longer than you, but you’re the one that carried me off that field. You're the one that threw me in the car and drove off like you were kidnapping me. What if he saw you and thought the same thing?”
“A few nights ago you were freaking out because you thought he texted you. Now you're defending him?”
“I don't want him texting me or calling me. And to be clear, he hasn't actually done that. He gives me the creeps, but until he crosses a line, it's all just a gut feeling that a few of us have. I don’t want you to do something crazy.”
“I’m different,” I explained, my tone finally easing back into the casual, playfulness that I tried to give everyone. “You wanted to come with me.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“When I texted you last night, you said ‘k.’ If you didn’t want to go, you would have said, ‘nope.’”
She laughed and I finally looked over at her, seeing for the first time how weary she was. Practice must have been brutal, and I also wondered how much of that was still lingering from the weekend.
“You scared me Saturday,” I confessed. “I didn’t know what happened.”
“I think I started to panic.” She looked out the window and sighed, the confession weighing on her.
“I don’t want to be the reason you panic.”
No response. Just silence for a few more minutes as we drove through downtown.
“You intrigued me,” she finally said. “And I’m curious where we’re going.”
“My place,” I smiled, enjoying the way her head whipped toward me and her eyes widened with shock. “Scared of me now?”
“No. But why are you taking me to your place?”
“I have a good setup for getting my body ready for a game,” I reminded her. “You don’t need to always grind the way we have been.”
From the corner of my eye, I could tell she was staring at me while pulling at her lips with two fingers in a fidgeting manner. The plan was solid though, and had nothing to do with Hunter creeping around. It was my plan from the get-go, the only change being the venue.
Originally I was going to take her to the stadium to use the ice bath. But a few of the guys mentioned they were going back after dinner, so I had to make a new plan on the way to get her. I wanted to take her somewhere more secure, safer. Somewhere neither one of us had to look over our shoulders and worry about who was around.
After the shit Cruz gave me on Saturday, and then again at practice on Sunday, he would never let me live it down if he saw I had Ash in the ice tub.
I pulled into my parking garage and Ash jumped from the car, holding her bag and looking around while she waited. I grabbed my own bag from the trunk and took her hand, guiding her toward the private elevator that went directly up to my penthouse.
“Fancy,” she mumbled.
The mirrored walls of the elevator surrounded the space, and I looked at the reflection of us standing side by side, our hands together, and our bodies close to one another.
I expected her to drop my hand, maybe even step away to create space between us, but instead her eyes locked on mine in the mirror. We stayed that way for the rest of the ride to the top floor, until the doors opened making the mirror disappear.
The elevator opened directly into the foyer of the apartment, which was open to the kitchen and a dining area. Straight ahead was my living room. The far wall was nothing but glass windows and doors that led to a balcony. It wrapped around my entire side of the building, and you could look across the bay and the skyline of South Beach.
Ash let go of my hand and started walking around, taking in the decor and the view. Her fingers lightly floated over the back of my couch, then a lamp, and landed on a picture frame I had on the end table.
“Is this your brother?” She asked, bringing the picture closer to analyze it a little more.
“Yeah, Levi. He and I actually own this place together, but he lives in Atlanta so it's all mine for now. We got it before I signed with Miami, as a little getaway place, but for the last six years it's been home sweet home.
“He coaches in Atlanta, right?”
